


Tender Rendezvous

by dreadlockholiday



Category: Actor RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Alternate Universe, Kissing, M/M, Potter!Chris, Rated M for Modelling clay into suspiciously phallic shapes, Soft Dom!Chris
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:01:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27996435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreadlockholiday/pseuds/dreadlockholiday
Summary: "I never… I don't know how, I never did that–""That's okay, come on." The wheel slows down as Chris withdraws and shuffles back in his seat, and apparently the decision has already been made on his part. "I'll teach you."And then he indicates the space left between his legs on the stool – such a dangerous invite, such an irresistible desire – and Sebastian gulps, petrified, overwhelmed by a sudden burst of butterflies in his belly."I…" His words are trying to protest, but his traitorous legs are moving on their own accord already, taking a couple of steps closer to Chris. "Are you sure? I don't– I'm gonna mess it up.""I'm sure, Seb." Chris' smile is warm and hopeful and safe; it's all the convincing Sebastian needs. "I'll guide you, alright? And getting messy is part of the process."–Or, Chris is a potter, and Sebastian visits his shop for the first time.
Relationships: Chris Evans/Sebastian Stan
Comments: 16
Kudos: 94





	Tender Rendezvous

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the pottery scene in the movie "Ghost", this is for all my lovely peeps in the Evanstan Discord server <3
> 
> Title is from the song "Daddy Blue" by Brad Stank

There's a soft tune playing in the shop when Sebastian steps inside. 

He recognises it immediately;  _Unchained Melody,_ the notes of which dance through the clay-scented air with a delicacy that reaches his ears like a caress. 

It makes a smile bloom on his face; stirs warm excitement in the pit of his belly as he walks further inside, getting closer to the source of the music.

The evening is quickly taking over the space left by the sun ducking below the horizon, and the only form of light comes from behind the door left ajar in the back of the shop. It means it's well past the time the store closes; it means Sebastian is here only because he's been invited. 

It's an odd thing, the one between him and Chris. Like an exotic mating dance that has them twirling around each other with teasing looks and longing goodbyes. They're friends, and some more, but Sebastian doesn't really know how to call what's going on between them. 

There's been a kiss. Just one light, soft affection mark he left on Chris' lips when he dropped Sebastian off at his apartment last week. He was happy and cozy, content after they spent lunch together; it was unplanned, and so was the kiss, but Sebastian likes to think of it as their first date even if technically it was not. 

Chris invited him over for dinner that day.  _ "Come by the shop next week after I close?" _ he'd asked, sheepish but hopeful.  _ "I'll be working but uh, we can have dinner later? If you want?" _ and Sebastian was saying yes before Chris even had the time to finish the sentence. 

This time it's official, intentional; it  _ is _ a date _ , _ and he's hoping that whatever happens tonight is gonna make them take a step forward in their relationship. Maybe they will finally put a name to what they have, and maybe Sebastian will put his lips on Chris' again. 

Thrumming with nerves at the thought, he makes his way over, breath caught up in anticipation with the knowledge of who is waiting for him at the end of the narrow store. 

The walls surrounding him are covered in shelves, and the shelves are filled with gorgeous pottery; plates, vases and figures built with so much care and love are exposed like an exhibition, and Sebastian resists the urge to trail his fingers over them and feel the colourful patterns. 

Chris is so incredibly talented; an artist, and this is his calling, his passion. Sebastian sees how he puts all of it in what he does. His eyes are full of awe by the time he reaches the door at the end of the shop and slowly pushes it open. 

The back room is surprisingly large. There's unfinished pottery filling the ample space, and wooden tools lie around in an organised mess along with a hundred other things Sebastian doesn't know the name of. He takes it all in with curious eyes; from the working desk snug against the wall on the left side of the workshop, covered with brushes and tins of paint and a handful of half-done vases, to the kiln built in the brickwall on the opposite side. It's currently not in use, but judging by the warmth lingering in the air, Sebastian guesses the fire hasn't been put out for long. 

The music here mixes with the muted whirr of the pottery wheel, and Sebastian's gaze searches for the source of the sound. He spots Chris, at last, sitting on a stool in the back of the room. 

He's beautiful. Surrounded by peace, he's in his element here, and Sebastian thinks he's never seen him this open and calm. It's a sight worth remembering, so he leans against the doorway to admire Chris a little longer while he works undisturbed, humming the song under his breath as his hands mould the slippery clay. 

Entranced, Sebastian feels his heart thumping quick in his chest, eyes travelling from Chris' skillful hands to the gentle curve of his back. There's a dark grey apron covering his front, but underneath it Chris is shirtless, his skin gleaming under the warm light shining above, and there's tattoos there that Sebastian wasn't aware of before. The novelty of his discovery lights up a flame in him. 

In all the times they've seen each other, Chris always wore soft, comfy clothes; a creamy cable-knit sweater or a fleecy cardigan, never really showing off what was hiding beneath that soft apparel; although Sebastian knew that Chris is good-looking and hot, he wasn't actually expecting him to be such a chiselled masterpiece. With  _ muscles _ _._ And  _tattoos_ all over them. 

His thoughts immediately drift to heated scenarios that involve his hands on that body, and he must make an involuntary noise in the back of his throat, because Chris is suddenly lifting his head, laying his blue eyes on him with surprise written all over his face, and Sebastian feels a little like a deer caught in the headlights. 

"Seb! Hey," Chris lights up. "You made it." 

Suddenly it's pleasantly warm in Sebastian's chest, in his cheeks, and it's easy to mirror Chris' contagious smile. 

"That I did," He says, stepping away from the doorway with clammy hands stuffed in his jeans' pockets.

Chris' eyes are on him, blue and brilliant, and he's wearing such a pleased and happy expression it makes Sebastian want to tackle him with an embrace and never let go. The vase on the wheel keeps spinning, abandoned for the moment, and Sebastian feels like he might be spinning too – a dancer that's twirling in pirouettes toward his center of gravity. 

He stops a few feet by Chris, suppressing the urge to squirm under his unrelenting gaze. The silence between them is suddenly too heavy to bear; it makes Sebastian's temperature rise, makes the tips of his ears itch, and he desperately needs a conversation to distract Chris from his blushing face. 

"Um… nice music taste." 

Chris chuckles, his naked shoulders shaking with the movement and making the muscles ripple. Sebastian's mouth waters, flooding with the sweet taste of all the things he imagines doing to that body – putting his hands on pale skin, grabbing the width of Chris' back and holding on it while–

"Gotta create a nice atmosphere." Chris shrugs before turning back to his vase, and Sebastian clears his throat, shuffles on his feet in a vain attempt to escape the sudden warmth puddling in his belly. 

"It's a pretty nice atmosphere." His words come out breathier than he means. It's a struggle to talk unaffected when his eyes are helplessly glued to what Chris' hands are doing. 

They're shiny with water and slippery with clay, the veins bulging on Chris' forearms as he presses and pushes and caresses the pliable material with precision and experience. He's good at it, knows what he's doing, and Sebastian goes a little dizzy just looking at it happen. 

"You're, um, making a vase?" 

And God– the question is so stupid and obvious, but Chris just hums in affirmation. "Yeah, just playing around a little, y' know." 

"It looks good." Sebastian swallows, watching Chris guide two fingers past the rim of the vase to stretch it wider. "Um, you're uh– you're really tal-talented." 

His attention is so focused on those hands that he almost misses Chris' blush; the pink spreads from his cheeks all the way to the eagle on his chest, and it's a beautiful sight, and Sebastian doesn't know what he wants to look at more. 

"Nah, don't give me too much credit. It's not that hard," Chris says,  _ lies _ _,_ because it's definitely not easy at all, and then he looks up at Sebastian with a playful glint in his eyes. "You wanna give it a try?" 

Sebastian feels his eyes widen almost comically. 

"Wha– uh, me?" He stammers, taken aback and flushing with sudden embarrassment. "I never… I don't know how, I never did that–" 

"That's okay, come on." The wheel slows down as Chris withdraws and shuffles back in his seat, and apparently the decision has already been made on his part. "I'll teach you." 

And then he indicates the space left between his legs on the stool – such a dangerous invite, such an irresistible desire – and Sebastian gulps, petrified, overwhelmed by a sudden burst of butterflies in his belly. 

"I…" His words are trying to protest, but his traitorous legs are moving on their own accord already, taking a couple of steps closer to Chris. "Are you sure? I don't– I'm gonna mess it up." 

"I'm sure, Seb." Chris' smile is warm and hopeful and safe; it's all the convincing Sebastian needs. "I'll guide you, alright? And getting messy is part of the process." 

Sebastian absolutely doesn't choke on his own spit at those words and the wink that follows after, and he tries to ignore the way his pants are getting really warm with each passing second. His jacket comes off and he places it on an empty spot on the working desk, and then he turns back around, ready but not ready at all, when Chris suddenly stops him. 

"Take your shirt off, too. Don't want you to ruin it." The apron is gone from his chest, instead hanging precariously off Chris' clay-covered finger as he offers it to Sebastian. "Wear this for me." 

Sebastian blinks once, then twice, and the sound of his swallow is embarrassingly loud in the room. That's a lot of muscles in front of his eyes; a lot of tattoos, a lot of body hair. That's a sight that should make Sebastian stop; it's too dangerous to jump to this level of intimacy so quick. He knows what he wants, and the problem is that Sebastian wants it so bad he knows the moment he gets a taste it's gonna be hard to stop asking for more. 

"C'mon," Chris says, and his smile is knowing and full of confidence, and Sebastian's body is obeying before his brain gets a say in it. 

His shirt comes off, too, and in its place settles a veil of self consciousness. Sebastian's aware that he got lucky on the looks; he's lean and athletic, smooth skin enriched with an attractive tan, and his abs might not be the most defined and sculpted, but he's certainly proud of the hard work it took to earn them. 

Chris, however, is on a whole other level, making Sebastian feel a little inadequate in comparison. It doesn't escape his notice, though, how dark and hungry Chris' eyes get for a few seconds as he stares at Sebastian's newly exposed torso, and he blatantly thinks how he doesn't deserve to be looked at with so much desire, but the moment is over all too quickly for Sebastian's tricky mind to go down that road.

He's handed the apron with a mysterious grin, one that has him breathing a little faster, a little more rushed, and then Chris steps back to resume his position on the stool. 

Sebastian doesn't even have to think about what he does next. It's like his body is on autopilot – a horse whose reins are in Chris' hands – and so with trembling fingers he slides the apron over his head, ties the strings around his back, grateful for the fabric that now shields his body from Chris' eyes. 

The wheel is spinning again, and so is Sebastian's head as he takes a few steps forward. 

"Um," He starts, mind fizzing with the thought of what's about to happen, of how close they're going to be. 

"C'mere." Chris' hands are still covered with clay, and he's holding his arms far from his body so Sebastian has the space to sit without getting dirty in the process. 

The invite is honey-sweet, a rumble that makes something quake in Sebastian's core, and he feels like he's flying on a cloud as he moves forward, turns his back to Chris, and sits down on the wooden stool. 

And then–

And then he's  _ warm .  _

_ Chris _ is warm, and Sebastian silently wonders if the kiln has been turned on again without his notice, because it definitely feels like being surrounded by a furnace right now. Chris is warm and  _ close _ _,_ his arms coming to surround Sebastian, welcoming him against the firmness of his naked chest. 

It earns a hitch in his breath, and he knows Chris must be able to hear it even with the sound of the music and the whirr of the wheel covering it. There's a need deep inside him that's telling him to run away and hide, but no matter how hard it wishes for him to escape any form of embarrassment Sebastian's body stays planted where it is, bracketed by Chris' thighs. 

"Give me your hands, Seb." Chris' deep voice washes over him, pulling him out of his daze, and it takes a few seconds for Sebastian to fully understand the question. 

"S-sure." Agitated by sparks of excitement coursing through his veins, his hands are trembling and sweaty when he lifts them just enough for Chris' to envelope them with his own palms. 

They're large, gentle despite how rough they feel, and suddenly Sebastian can't stop staring at their joined hands. It's a pretty sight; they fit, they look good together like this – clay against skin, fire against ice. 

"Your hands are cold," Chris notices, and the smile in his voice makes Sebastian smile too for an unexplainable reason.

"Mhm, always are, yeah." Sebastian blushes when he realises how affected his tone sounds. 

"Good thing I'm here to warm you, then, right?" It's a tease, or maybe a promise; the words send a zing of pleasure racing up Sebastian's spine nonetheless. 

He doesn't say anything in reply. He can't, not when Chris wiggles impossibly closer and oh– he's so warm, so  _ big, _ and his chin is hooked over Sebastian's shoulder, beard tickling his ruddy cheek, and Sebastian is  _ melting _ _,_ becoming putty against him without an ounce of shame. 

"I'm gonna guide you now, okay, Seb?" Chris says, and Sebastian nods obediently, ready to let Chris take the lead. "Just relax your hands and don't push. I'll do it for you at first." 

"Okay." 

The first touch against clay makes Sebastian gasp. It feels weird; cool and wet, slipping beneath his fingers as it spins. Chris applies light pressure, so careful and measured, and Sebastian watches with awe when the curve of the vase bends under their hands. 

Chris hums a sound of approval by his ear, and then brings their hands over to the wooden bucket filled with water. There's something funny about all of it; Sebastian feels like a little marionette under Chris' control as he dumps their hands into the water, shakes the excessive droplets off, takes them back to work on the vase. 

It makes a chuckle bubble in his throat and tumble from his lips, and Chris laughs along, husky and deep where his breath falls on Sebastian's neck. The shiver it produces takes him by surprise; it makes the hairs on his arms rise and his nipples pebble under the apron, and Sebastian squirms a little, but the movement is jerky enough for the vase to suddenly deform and collapse, his heart dropping with it. 

"Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't–" 

"Shh," Chris doesn't let Sebastian's hands escape his grip in the haste, and his voice holds amusement, almost fondness. "It's alright, Seb, it happens all the time. We can just start over, hm?" 

Chris' hands leave his long enough for him to place the vase – or what's become of it – back on the center of the wheel. Sebastian's a little hypnotised by the muscles in his forearms shifting and bulging as Chris compresses the clay back into a mass of undefined shape. 

"You're doing great, by the way." Sebastian sucks in a breath at the praise, feels his nose scrunch up with a smile that's impossible to hold back. "You've got hands made for this. So delicate and soft," Chris adds, and as he speaks he picks up Sebastian's hands in his again, runs a thumb over clay-covered knuckles. 

Sebastian thinks his heart is about to beat its way out of his chest and right into Chris' arms. 

In the background, he notices that the song has changed, but the notes and lyrics fall on distant ears. It's a little bit fuzzy in his head – sharp edges smoothed to be soft and tender – and Sebastian feels himself sag further into Chris' hold, giving him all the control over his body. 

"How does it feel?" 

The question takes a few seconds to reach Sebastian's brain, and suddenly he's aware that he's slipping a bit too fast. 

"Huh?" He says, blinking until his eyes focus on the view in front of him. 

Their hands are moving like one; fingers intertwined and laced together, sliding over clay with slow movements that Sebastian has no control of. 

"How does the clay feel? Doing pottery?" Chris murmurs in a low and raspy voice. 

"Oh," Sebastian doesn't know how it feels. Right now he doesn't know anything beside the fact that Chris seems to be everywhere, encompassing him and surrounding him with bliss and warmth, with shivers. "I… I think weird. Um, it's wet. Feels– feels harder than I thought." 

The clay slips beneath their fingers, and apparently Chris doesn't care about the shape they're modelling it into anymore. It's become taller than wider, like a cylinder, like a–

"Hm, yeah. 's it good, Sebastian?" 

There's no apparent sense in the way Chris is moving their hands, but all Sebastian can think about is how it looks like they're stroking, looks like it's a–

"Guh– good, yeah." 

And then Chris runs his nose over the sensitive skin under Sebastian's ear, and then his lips are there, too, hovering and tickling with puffs of breath. 

He's asking for permission, Sebastian thinks, or maybe he's just imagining it all, but he wants this, his body craves it, and with a silent offer he tips his head to the side, exposing his neck to anything Chris wants to do to it. 

Chris doesn't waste any time. Sebastian's eyes slip closed when a pair of hot, wet lips brush over his skin. He can't help the breathy moan that escapes his mouth, but he doesn't care – he's all Chris', he wants to be swallowed whole by him – and there's liquid fire pooling in his belly. 

The kisses are soft and delicate, placed with care over Sebastian's jaw and throat and neck. The scratch of the beard is gonna leave marks, and they'll be welcome, there for Sebastian to touch and look at when he's alone, remembering this moment. Chris' hands get curious, too. They wander further up, encircling Sebastian's slender wrists and caressing his arms with a touch full of promises. The clay remains on his skin as a testimony of Chris' claim. 

"Chris," Sebastian whispers when those pillowy lips seal against his neck and suck, wanting to leave marks there as well. "Oh, God." 

"Mmm," Chris rumbles, pulling Sebastian's body closer until he's almost sitting on his lap, and Sebastian is panting, worked up and excited and turned on beyond belief. 

It's warm in his belly, it's boiling hot between his legs; Sebastian wants some relief but he doesn't know how to ask for it, doesn't know where he needs it more, but Chris seems to read his mind easily, coming to his rescue. 

"Hey," He says, pulling back from the artwork he created on Sebastian's neck. "Look at me." 

Sebastian turns his head to the left, his glossy eyes meeting Chris' ocean-deep ones, and then he's being kissed on the lips, too. 

It's heated and passionate, it's all Sebastian needed; the pieces slot into place and he sighs happily against Chris' mouth, lets him lace their fingers together again and guide their arms out, forcing Sebastian to lean more against his chest. 

Their bodies sway softly to the song, and the sound of their kisses and gasps and moans melts with the music. Sebastian is trembling, his wild heartbeat shaking him from the inside out; he whines when Chris' tongue probes between his lips, seeking entrance, and Sebastian is pliant and sweet in the way he lets him in. 

This feels like being claimed, too; Chris leaves his signature on his tongue and mouth and teeth with each hot lick, and it feels like flying, and it tastes like falling in love. 

When they break apart, it's just far enough to catch their breath. Their lips are shiny, swollen and red, resting against each other; Sebastian doesn't have it in him to open his eyes, but he feels Chris' gaze on him, and it makes his crimson cheeks light up even more. 

"I'm sorry," Chris suddenly says. Sebastian frowns and looks at him, studies the sincere apology in his eyes. "I didn't mean to let myself go like this. I really wanted to teach you and uh, have dinner and then maybe later– I, this or–" 

Sebastian starts giggling. It must be either because he's high on endorphins or because he's actually become crazy, but the chuckles can't seem to stop spilling from his lips. Chris is both amused and confused by the look he's giving him. 

"What? What's so funny, sweetheart?" He asks, leaning in to peck Sebastian on the nose. 

"I dunno," Sebastian shrugs, cheeks aching from smiling too hard. "This was nice, too. I'm not complaining." 

Relief washes over Chris' face. "Good," and his eyes are dancing from Sebastian's lips to his nose to his eyes. "We can have dinner now?" 

"Mhm." 

"And then– maybe we can? We can–" 

"Yeah," Sebastian whispers, reading between the lines and knowing what Chris is trying to say. "We can. Kiss me again." 

"Sure, sweetheart." Chris smiles, and then his lips find Sebastian's again. 

Dinner doesn't come for a long time. 

**Author's Note:**

> Chris' apartment is above his shop so they just go there and have dinner. Or sex. Whatever. 
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](https://dreadlockholiday.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Let me know what you think <3


End file.
